Opening Doors
by XDarkxStormxCloudsX
Summary: This is the story of Liliane Ludovic, a girl with a complicated family and who is just trying to fit in with her Mother and stepfamily, new school in Forks, and with vampires and werewolves... wait...what? Edward/Oc/slightJacob, arrives b4 Bella reg pairs
1. Chapter 1

My Goodness! It has beeen _AGES_! **AGES I SAY!** Lol, but hello out there! I am finally writing another Twilight Edward/OC Fanfic. To those of you who have read my other Twilight fanfic, you might see some similar ideas between the two here and there, but hopefully not too much lol. But yeah, I feel as though I should write more...but I don't feels like it XP

Before you read I would like to inform you of a few things:

1) OK, so I HATE the movies. I used to love them, but I hate them so much now. I am not as obsessed as I used to be lol. And the movies ruined the character of Bella for me. Kristin Stewart cannot act, I hate her as Bella...so yeah. There might be some Bella bashing, but not for a while. I will try to keep it to a minium, because the Bella in the books is better than the movies.

2) I am changing a few things about vampires here... after becoming a TrueBlood fan...my God the Twilight Vampires look pu$$y-rific. Sorry. (Eric Northman 3). So, the vampires can bleed but heal up right away kind of like in TrueBlood, but their skin is still marble hard, the only way to kill a vampire is my tearing themn apart and/or burning them... oh, and they need fangs, even if it's a little. Vampires have to have fangs. And I will be making fun of the sparkling :)

3) Jacob becomes a werewolf sooner than he does in the series...

4) I am sticking more to the books than the movies.

5) And if any of my information about France is wrong, let me know. (I'm kind of half a$$ing the research XP)

6) And as always, constructive critisim is welcomed, flamers - get the fck out - and yeah. Review if you want more chapters. The Chapters stop when the reviews stop :)

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I've never been too far outside my hometown of Toulon, France let alone on a plane heading to a whole other country. Am I nervous? Mm…no, can't say I am, however I do tend to get delayed emotions, so it'll probably hit me later on. Emile and I sit in the airport, waiting for my flight to be called; my backpack and violin case by my feet. "Are you excited to see your mother?" Emile asks me in English. He insisted on us speaking strictly English since America is where I will be living from now until… whenever. I sigh as I pick the lint off of my sweatshirt.

"It would be natural and logical for me to say yes, wouldn't it? Normal…" Emile laughs and strokes my head. I love his laugh, it always warms me up from the inside out, so beautiful.

"Yes, I suppose it would, but you were never a normal child sweetheart." My stomach lurches uncomfortably. Great, because being considered abnormal when traveling to live in a new town in a whole new country is very encouraging. I look at Emile when I feel his gaze upon me. I know him well enough to wait for him to say something. "You do know that your father would be here to send you off if he didn't have work." I return to my people watching. It has always been the same, Dad always working, never home, Emile telling me he would be there, he would do that if he wasn't working, but that's the thing, he is always working.

"I know," My eyes follow two young women, definitely tourists, and by the size of their luggage they are just arriving. The Asian one stares at Emile as her blonde friend giggles. Emile follows my gaze curiously locking eyes with the dark haired Asian who smiles flirtatiously at him. He smiles back at her politely. "You're so mean," I mutter. Emile is a very handsome man at the age of thirty-seven with a perfect tan, strong muscular body, sandy blonde hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck, baby blue eyes, clean shaven, a dazzling smile…

"What?" he chuckles, "I am simply smiling; Am I not allowed to smile?" …and completely oblivious to his charm and natural good looks. Perhaps this is what made my father fall in love with him? It is difficult to resist Emile's… Emile-ness.

"You encourage that woman by a mere smile," Emile puts his arm around my shoulder and naturally I lean into him.

"_Amoureux," _he whispers the pet name he calls me, "Try not to be jealous, you know that I am a one woman man and you my dear, are that one woman," that liquid-y, gooey, warmth that emits from my core engulfs me again. Such a charmer my stepfather is. I close my eyes and relax further into his secure arms. Emile's tenderness makes me want to never leave France, never leave my home, him, my best friend, or even my father. "Remember to call me every day, alright?"

"Nope," I never talk on the phone much; I do not like it, so remembering to call Emile everyday to talk? Not happening.

"Every other day?"

"No,"

"Once a week. You must call me once a week, I refuse to have it any other way."

"Alright," I inhale his scent, committing it to memory, "but if I don't call by Friday night of each week then you have to call me,"

"Yes ma'am," I can hear the smile in his voice.

Grey. So very grey. And cold. So very, very cold. I find my two suitcases and pull them off of the conveyer belt with difficulty, nonetheless I manage to do so. Struggling with all of my baggage I navigate my way to where the taxis, buses, and cars are all dropping off and picking up people. So here I am, Forks, Washington, United States of America beginning to wonder why I left sunny, warm Toulon for grey, wet, and cold Forks. Why did I leave? I rub my face as I sit on my largest suitcase, waiting for my mother to come and get me. I haven't seen my mother since I moved with my father to France when I was eight years old immediately after their divorce. I haven't even talked her in eight years. Apparently Emile has, since he told me she has a husband and two children now. I wonder how long they've been in contact for, how much information was traded and so on and so forth.

I cover my mouth as I yawn. Does it surprise me she's not here? Not really, no. I don't remember much of my mother, besides the constant arguing with my father, but there is one thing I distinctly remember, she was always very… spastic.

Thirty-three minutes pass before my mother comes and picks me up. At first I didn't recognize her, the mother I knew had shoulder length auburn hair with green eyes. The second thing that I remember about my mother is her auburn hair that I always found so lovely. It flowed and shimmered and always kept people guessing her natural color; was it more red than brown or more brown than red? However, this woman, that pulls up the car, gets out and runs up to hug me with tears already streaming down her cheeks, is not the mother I knew. First off this woman is blonde, platinum blonde all the way down her back with her roots just beginning to show. Second, this woman is a stick, honestly borderline anorexic thin. The mother I knew wasn't skinny, but not fat at all. She had glorious curves, the same curves she passed on to me, sort of. My mother was tall so the curves looked proportional, but on me, not so much. I just look stocky since I'm short at 5'3".

"Oh! Lily! Look at you!" she squeals as she squeezes me with her bone arms. "You've grown so much! Am I late? When did your flight get in?"

"A few minutes ago," I lie easily knowing that I will avoid a long, complicated, and tiresome explanation as to why she was thirty-three minutes late. The third and final thing I remember vividly about Amelia, my mother, is her voice. The sound itself isn't annoying or anything, but she talks in such great lengths and elaborates everything that after awhile of her nonstop speaking, I always feel exasperated and out of breath myself.

"Oh good! I was so worried that I was late! Here, let's put your bags in the car," I grab the two heaviest ones; I don't think she is capable of lifting them, her arms might snap off! Once my bags are put away into the trunk or the back seat we get in and pull away from the airport. "Oh Lily, you are going to love it here in Forks! I cannot wait for you to meet your new father and sisters!"

"Step,"

"What?"

"Step," I repeat while I still stare out of the passenger side window. Things here seem so dreary. "As in New Stepfather and Stepsisters," I need to establish titles right away. I really do not need to get confused while talking about my many family members.

"Hm, well, actually, Lily," I glance at her, she seems giddy, "One of them is your blood sister!"

"Oh," I turn back to the window. A half sister, what do you know…

"So your Stepfather – "

"New," now she glances at me with a strange confused look before looking back to the wet road; I sigh, "As in New Stepfather. I think of Emile when you say simply Stepfather." I look over at her but I suddenly find myself back tracking, her eyes were beginning to water but nowhere near for them to start falling "It'll just be easier for me to identify them this way, it won't be so confusing,"

"Alright," she says hesitantly,

"Yeah, it is just my process," I watch as her face relaxes a bit more. I suppress a sigh.

"I understand. So you will be starting your junior year of high school at Forks High on Tuesday. Your sister, stepsister," she corrects herself, "and I went shopping for your notebooks and anything you would need for school…" I must admit, I do appreciate her making an effort to follow my 'process'.

We pull into her driveway and she cuts the engine. I begin to get out when I notice she doesn't even move. I sit back in the seat and wait. After a few minutes of a very pregnant silence she opens her mouth, "Has your father heard anything from Acelin?" She asks with her eyes planted sadly on the steering wheel. I cringe and look into my lap.

Acelin (Ah Se Lin), better known as Ace (American pronunciation), is my brother who is four years my senior. After the divorce we both went to live with my father, Durand, and after two years of that Ace opted to try living with my mother; him and my father fought just about if not more than Amelia and Durand had. Another two years and he couldn't handle living with her either so he was forced back to live with Durand and I. He was sixteen when he finally ran away.

"No," I answer truthfully. My father hasn't heard from Ace, but I have, quite frequently I might add. I make my escape and exit the car. The air even smells cold.

"Mommy!" I momentary look up as I walk around the back of the car to the trunk to see a girl about, oh, between nine to twelve years old run up to Amelia and hug her in a crushing embrace. I stopped calling my parents mommy or daddy when I was five.

After a huge argument between my parents and my brother, Ace had come into my room and slammed the door. Why he didn't go into his own room I don't think I will ever know but he came into my room and began pacing vigorously, like a caged tiger. I was in my captains bed (one of those beds with dresser draws underneath it and there is a ladder to get to the top part of the bed) reading, or at least looking at the pictures of a book with the light on a shelf on. I didn't say or ask anything. It wasn't like I was afraid of the pacing tiger in my room, I just simply let the furious creature walk out its frustration. At one point he just stopped moving and was standing next to my bed, his body so tense. I leaned over and touched his shoulder. "Why were mommy and daddy yelling at you?" I had asked. He clenched his fists and tears ran down his cheeks. That was the first time I had ever seen him cry, the last too. "Mommies and Daddies don't yell at their babies, Lil-Lil. Mommies and Daddies love their babies. Those two aren't my Mommy and Daddy," his words sliced through me; claws, teeth, fangs. After the initial shock had worn off, I tugged on his T-Shirt and when he looked up at me his normally bright green eyes were cloudy with pain and anger. I motioned for him to come into the bed with me. Once he crawled in with me, I pulled the blanket over us and shut off my light. I held his hand and the words had came out of my mouth before I knew it, "You don't need a Mommy or a Daddy. You only need a Lil-Lil."

"John help Lily get her bags out of the car," Amelia says while still smothering her daughter with her bones. A few seconds later my New Stepfather, John walks over to me and takes the luggage from me with a smile and disappears into the house I presume. I walk around the car again to retrieve my violin and backpack from the back seat. I get them out and walk near Amelia who is now holding an infant in her arms. "Come on Lily, let's go inside," Amelia says holding onto the nine to twelve year old child's hand. I follow obediently.

"OK, so Lily, let me introduce you to your new family. This is your, New Stepfather, John Gaven," she points to the man who brought in my two suitcases (where they are now I do not know). He is leaning against the arm of the plaid sofa. He has dark spiky hair, five o' clock shadow, and dark brown eyes. He's about the same height as Amelia, maybe an inch or two taller, and he looks like a strong man however with a tad bit of a beer gut.

"It's so great to finally meet you Lily, your mom has told us so much about you," he smiles and crosses his arms. He's wearing a dark blue plaid shirt, it's the sixteenth plaid shirt I've seen on the drive here, a very worn pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots. I look back up to his eyes and simply nod. How much does Amelia know about me? How much has Emile told her?

"This little one is Kayla Marie Gaven, she is John's daughter from his previous marriage, she's just beginning 7th grade this coming school year," Amelia continues. Kayla Marie Gaven has dirty blonde hair tied into low pigtails and she has brown eyes exactly like her father's. If she is starting 7th grade, then she must be, what twelve or thirteen years old. I stare at her as swings back and forth like a small child. She likes pink. She wears a pink skirt, a pink top, pink leggings, pink socks, and pink shoes. Goodness gracious. I mean, it is not as though I am opposed to the color pink, heck, even I have a few pink items, but that much pink is just disgusting.

"Hi," she mumbles shyly. One of my eyebrows rise, why is she acting like a six year old when she's in junior high? Once again, I nod.

"And this baby here," Amelia coos at the now sleeping infant cradled in her arms, "Her name is Penelope Aceline Gaven…" My chin tilts up slightly.

"Huh…" What else is there to say? Clearly my mother thinks Ace is dead. Can I be angry at her for that? I am a little bit, but Durand hasn't heard/seen Ace in four years and Amelia hasn't seen him in six years. Does she have a right to name anything after my brother? They always yelled at each other. I inhale deeply and give them my best smile, nothing too big and not too small. "It's so nice to meet all of you," I keep the smile in place with soft eyes. Emile has taught me to always be polite, no matter what, and it will be a lovely day in hell when I let Emile down, "Thank you so much for your hospitality,"

"I think we should celebrate your arrival," John says looking at his wife, "Let's go to Billy's," Celebrate? Washington is nine hours earlier than France. It is twelve noon here, so it is nine at night in Toulon. I am beyond tired.

" Why don't we go over the weekend, John? I'm sure Lily has jet lag and would like to go to sleep and rest," she glances at me. "Are you hungry sweetie?" I nod,

"Ravenous," John looks at me strangely as I follow my mother into the kitchen and sit at the table obediently. I jump when Kayla Marie Gaven leaps next to me,

"What does that mean?" she's holding on to my arm as I try to lean away from her.

"Hungry, starving," I answer still leaning away as if she is a contagious virus. She's just smiling so oddly at me. I tear my gaze away from her and look back to my mother; where'd the baby go? I look to my right to see John holding the baby. Oh.

"So Lily, tell us about France," John tries to make conversation. How do I answer that? Should I ask him, so tell me about America?

"Um, I don't know much, I mean, you could probably Google whatever information I know…"

"Have you ever been to Paris?"

"No,"

"What!" John laughs, "How do you live in France and never been to Paris?"

"Have you ever been to New York City?" I ask.

"No…?"

"How can you live in the United States of America and never been to New York City?" John stares at me with analytical eyes then clears his throat. I am really not making things easy am I? I clench my jaw and decide to try again. "So, is it always this kind of weather in Forks?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Kayla Marie Gaven answers. "It's only sunny like, never."

"Ah," Hence why everyone is so pale.

"Lia says you're from Toulon?" my head tilts in confusion before realizing he was calling my mother 'Lia'; I nod my head. "Where's that?"

"It's located on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, southern France."

"What's the weather like in Toulon?" John asks. Much better question.

"Nothing like this," I gesture with a wave of my hand, "It's always so sunny and warm. It rarely rains and if it does it is a warm rain, not cold like here. The lowest the temperature has ever gotten is…" where I live we go by Celsius, but here they use Fahrenheit, I remember Emile telling me the conversion of 5 degrees Celsius, "around 42 degrees Fahrenheit." I look to see what my mother is doing, but I can't tell because she has her back to me.

"That still is pretty cold," I shrug,

"But it doesn't get that cold that often."

Amelia places a plate in front of me. It's a ham and turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread. How does she know what I like? Definitely must have been Emile. She continues to put plates in front of everyone else as well. "I like your ring," Kayla Marie Gaven says with her mouth full. My ring is a medium sized cream colored heart with a silver band. After I finish chewing I thank her. "I like your earrings too," My earrings are simple rubies. Amelia pours me a glass of milk and I thank her, ask if she has any coffee made, she does, she pours me a cup, and I thank her then thank Kayla Marie Gaven for her compliment. "I like your bracelets too," My bracelets are just a few silver bangles some have red designs, some have purple. I inhale slowly and close my eyes making sure to keep my facial expression under control. I thank her again and sip my black coffee. I severely hope she doesn't see me as a sister. I pray to whatever Gods there are that she acknowledges that we are stepsisters, because if not then I will never hear the end of, you're the older sister I've always wanted! You can braid my hair! Can I borrow some of your clothes/jewlery/etc.? Let's do a sleepover! I shudder at the thought.

"Lia, back to the celebration," I look over to John, "I think we should still do it tonight," Amelia takes a breath to rebut but he cuts her off, "I know she has jetlag, but going to sleep now she'll never get used to the time difference,"

"Honey, she's _tired_."

"I agree with John," I contribute, even though it's not the celebration part of it that I agree with, "It'll be better if I try to get used to the time difference now and be prepared for school rather than after," Amelia purses her lips together then shrugs.

"Whatever you want Lily," she gasps suddenly making me almost spill my milk, "Billy's been dying to try my apple pie! Oh I can make that! You see," she says looking to me, "My apple pie is famous because I don't exactly follow the recipe," she grins smugly, "Is it just going to be Billy and Jake or are some of their other family members going to be there? I'll need to know if I need to make more than one pie, Lord knows those boys can eat!" I focus on my sandwich, why is a celebration needed? It's not like I even know these people. I can only assume this is more of an excuse for people to get together, drink, and be merry.

"May I be excused?" Amelia nods. I pick up my dishes and place them in the sick when my eyes catch a yellow notepad on the counter. Emile definitely told her much about me. There is a list of all of my favorite foods.

"Oh that's right!" Amelia exclaims, startling me again. "Lily!" I turn around, "Your father bought you a gift, he sent it here last week. Ugh, that man, it is far too elaborate. I really hope he hasn't spoiled you and your… hasn't spoiled you. I swear that man is just showing off," my head tilts in curiosity, "before we leave for Billy's we'll show it to you. What time should we leave for Billy's house?" she asks herself more than John, but he still answers.

"Probably leave around five,"

"Yes, five would be good. It gives me plenty of time to bake my pies. And Lily it gives you lots of time to unpack and get settled in, shower, you know, and relax a bit."

"Alright. If you don't mind I am going to make a few phone calls,"

"Oh yes! Of course, your father wanted me to make sure you called him when you arrived," My father? Durand and her haven't spoken for years. They can't stand each other. She must be referring to Emile. I nod and walk out of the backdoor. The Gaven's backyard is pretty big with no fence to separate one yard from the next. I look to my left and see a house about twenty-five to thirty yards away then I look to my right and there is another house about sixty yards away. I walk down the three cement steps to a small bench further into the yard near a swing set. I open my phone and call Emile.

"Hello sweetheart! How are you feeling?" I sigh as I lean back against the bench looking up at the grey sky.

"I think the weather is having an effect on my mood and emotions. I feel so… unhappy, stoic, stale,"

"Aw, it's hard for a flower to bloom in that kind of cold environment isn't it," I nod even though he can't see it, "Well all I can advise you to do is emit your own sunshine and nourish yourself until you blossom. Also, remember that it is your first day there, you haven't gone to school yet," I groan, making friends is not my strong suit. Emile laughs, "You'll do fine. I think you will make friends much easier there in a small town than you did here,"

"Good pep talk, Emile," I roll my eyes.

"I apologize, but try not to worry. Moving to live with your mother for a while was a very good decision, don't regret it. You needed to get out of here, experience new worlds, not just learn about them."

"I know," I mumble. After a moment of silence I ask, "Is Dad around?" already knowing the answer.

"No, sweetheart he's not, I'm sorry." Even though I knew the answer, the little miniscule amount of hope I had is demolished. "He will be home tomorrow though," he tries to sound happy. "Tell me about your new stepfamily!" thank God for the topic change.

"Amelia looks nothing like she used to. She has long blonde hair and lost so much weight,"

"Wow, total make over? Does she look good?" I twist my mouth in contemplation. She doesn't look terrible, but I don't think she looks amazing either. Emile laughs again making me chuckle, "I'll take that as a no. Tell me about her husband,"

"His name is John Gaven and he looks like a lumberjack. He seems nice enough though," he chuckles again,

"And the two children?"

"Kayla Marie Gaven,"

"Uh-oh," I guess he can hear the disgust in my voice.

"I can tell already she is going to be annoying, she's going to think that I am the older sister she never had,"

"But Lily, you are her older sister," but I'm not, she's John's daughter who I have absolutely no relation to, is what I want to say, but then I remember that Emile has no relation to me and I see him more of a father and mother than either of my biological parents. My stomach churns uncomfortably as I cross my legs. "Lily, you don't have to fit into her mold of the perfect older sister right away, hell, you might never fit her expectations of an older sister at all. But you _are _part of her family. It took me a couple of years for you to finally warm up to me,"

"No it did not!" Emile laughs again warming me.

"I swear it did. Look, all I want you to do is be open. Don't close off a possible relationship with someone, OK?

"Yes," I exhale.

"Now what about the other child?"

"Penelope Aceline Gaven,"

"Oh…" Emile understands the situation of Ace, "What a mouthful,"

"Indeed. She's a little baby and she's my half sister."

"Is she cute?"

"Aren't all babies cute?"

"Lily…" he scolds gently, "Try to be involved with your new surroundings! You're not just a guest there, they are your family,"

"I know, I know, I'm just, tired. I'll be better, I promise." We bid our goodbyes and I close my phone. The next person I need to call is my best friend, Zecari Yohann. Our talk is semi depressing. Both of us were considered outcasts at my old high school and I'm not sure why either. It wasn't like we were super nerdy, super slutty, or so out of the ordinary it was ridiculous. But Zecari and I just kept to ourselves mostly. After saying goodbye to Zecari I call my brother.

"Is this a secure line?" he asks mockingly. I bite my bottom lip when my eyes begin to sting.

"Yes,"

"Good, so the last time we chatted, you were telling me that you wanted to live with Mother Dearest, is that correct?"

"Yes,"

"What's happened since that?"

"Well, Amelia has blonde hair now," Ace doesn't say anything for a few minutes.

"You're actually living with her? Now? At this very moment in time? You are at her house?"

"Yes," Another long silence. I watch the house to make sure no one sees or hears me talking to Ace.

"Why?"

"I needed a change. I love Dad and I adore Emile, but, I…I felt like I was stuck in mud and…sinking. I needed a change." Another silence. "So where are you now?"

"Deutschland!" he yells enthusiastically making me giggle.

"What are you doing in Germany?"

"Beer!" he yells again and this time I just full on laugh. "Yeah, but I plan to head to Japan soon to do some fishing."

"But don't you get sea sick?"

"Psh! I've been traveling the world for four years. I've kind of gotten over it… ish." The words were out before I realized,

"When are you coming home?"

"What home?" The same thing happens to him as well, there is a tense silence between us.

"I just miss you Ace," my eyes begin to sting again and my throat burns. He's quiet for a long time.

"I love you Lil-Lil," he says quietly. My vision is beginning to blur, "I promise I'll come see you soon. I really will," Ace is more like Durand than he cares to admit. I wipe my eyes vigorously and sniffle,

"OK," I say with a strong voice, "Well I have to go, you know, gotta unpack,"

"Right, OK then, I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye." I hang up and breathe deeply for a few minutes. I love my brother dearly, but sometimes…


	2. Chapter 2

Oh look! Another chapter! Don't get used to these quick updates, because once college starts...fuhgedit! Um, and the only reason i am uploading this now is because this chapter is really a continuation of the previous one, like its still the same day. But anyway...chyea...Reveiws are always welcomed. :)

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"Mom said for me to help you unpack!" Kayla Marie Gaven walks into my room and starts opening my second suitcase. What a rude little bugger! I take the suitcase she is opening and lift it onto the bed and stand between her and it with my hands on my hips.

"OK, I will hand you my stuff and tell you where I would like them put and then you put them were I tell you. How does that sound?" She nods enthusiastically. As I begin handing her clothes that need to be hung she starts asking me questions.

"If you lived in France, does that mean you speak French?"

"Yes," I separate my pants and shorts from my shirts, jackets, and dresses and spread them across the bed neatly.

"My Daddy says that your Daddy is rich, is that true?"

"Um," I'm not quite sure how to answer that. Yes, Durand makes more money than most people… a lot more… "Yes… I suppose he is," However, we didn't live in such a wealthy community. I think because Emile believes in the "less is more" ideals.

"So that means you're rich?" I close my eyes and breathe for a minute.

"No," I hand her another shirt, "I have to work for my own money just like everyone else,"

"Ooh! This is such a pretty shirt!" she holds up a simple off the shoulder black long sleeved blouse. It's one of the items I usually only wear during a concert or whenever I am performing.

"Thank you,"

"Can I try it on?"

"No," Kayla Marie Gaven looks at me with pouting lips and big sad eyes. I raise an eyebrow, "Put it away please," I gesture to the closet.

We finally manage to put away all of my clothes with her asking if she can try on something every other minute or so. She somehow got past me and dug into the suitcase with my clothes (it's a big bag) and pulled out one of my thongs. "Is this your underwear?" she asked me with a curl of her lip. Yes I do wear thongs OK, I do not want a VPL (Visible Panty Line) when I am wearing leggings or other tight pants. I snatched it away from her and pushed her to the side, my face flaming. Now we are working on my second suitcase.

"Wow! Can I borrow these!" she squeals while practically drooling over a pair of boots. I roll my eyes and clench my jaw to keep from groaning.

"No, you wouldn't be able to fit in them anyway," I muster out as politely as possible. I rub my face as I hand her another pair of heels, this time ankle boots, to which she drools over. The only time I ever wear heels is when I am performing, and I can't wear the same shoes for ever performance can I? That's my reasoning at least. I love shopping, especially shoe shopping, no one can ever go wrong with shoe shopping.

"You know Lily, you have such great style." I sigh and thank her. My style is comfort. All of my clothes are relatively plain, simple colors, and comfortable. "Maybe before school starts you can go shopping with me?" My immediate response is to decline, politely, but I stop myself. Don't close the door on a possible relationship.

"Sure, why not?" She gasps, startling me, just like Amelia, and screams. I whip around nearly snapping my head clean off, when I see her smiling. Good grief, this girl nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought she was dying or something.

"So what kind of music do you like?" She asks as she puts my final pair of shoes in the closet. I admit she follows directions very well, the shoes are in such a nice line. This is a tricky question. I have so many different genres I listen to it is ridiculous, even Zecari thinks it's crazy. Believe it or not, I am trying to be nice to Kayla Marie Gaven, but when you're as tired as I am, it is so difficult.

"Um, I have a wide variety of genres I listen to and it all depends on my mood." I take out my small jewelry box and place it on my dresser.

"You have a hair straighten-er?" she screams. I put a hand on my heart to try to slow it down. Hasn't she ever been taught about the whole inside and outside voice? "Could you straighten my hair for me! Before we go to Billy's!"

"Um," I walk over and take out the flatiron, hairdryer, curling iron and the rest of my bathroom/shower things and put them on the dresser where I have my jewelry box, "Why don't you have your own flatiron?"

"Daddy won't let me have one,"

"Then he probably wouldn't like me straightening your hair, would he?"

"Probably not," she mumbles as I organize everything on the dresser. I pull my phone from my pocket and check the time; it is 2:16. I lean on the dresser and yawn when she asks, "So you play the violin?" as she points to the black case located by the foot of my bed on the dark hardwood floors. She's lying on my bed now.

"Yes,"

"Are you any good?"

"Good enough to play in concerts and competitions,"

"Have you ever won any of the competitions?" I walk over to the suitcase on the bed and take out the remaining few items and put them on the bed as I take the two now empty bags and put them in the corner of my room.

"I've won a few, yes."

"Who's this?" I turn around to see her looking at the picture frames I just placed on the bed. I walk back to her and lean on the bed while she points to the person she is talking about.

"That's my brother," The picture is of us when I was seven and he was eleven. We were at a pool party for one of my brother's friends and we were both in our bathing suits and towels. I was hugging his waist and he had his hand on the top of my head.

"We have a brother?"

"I have a brother," I correct her before even thinking. I close my eyes and bite my bottom lip. I really should try to backtrack, but… well, Ace is not anyone I want to share. Even when I was little I was very possessive of him. It's so selfish I know, but still… he's my older brother and I'm his baby sister. That's all. Door shut and locked tight. "He ran away a long time ago." I whisper unintentionally as I take the picture frame and place it on my nightstand. I have another picture of us in my wallet. He was ten and I was six. I don't know who took the picture or where the picture was taken, it looks like a park I'm assuming, but Ace is carrying me on his back while I was asleep.

"Why'd he run away?" she asks as I put the rest of the picture frames on my other nightstand.

"My parents yelled too much,"

"So? That's no reason to run away,"

"You don't know the whole situation," I dump out everything in my backpack on the bed and begin separating everything into organized piles. Emile and Durand will be sending the rest of my stuff within the next week or so.

"Tell me the situation then," I stop organizing and take a few deep breaths.

"Kayla," I try out her name for the first time, "please don't ever talk about my brother, don't ask me to talk about him either,"

"Why not?" she moves closer to my face on my bed. Why not? Because I will have a complete breakdown if we do. I don't like remembering all of the yelling. That's why. I suck my lips in as I plug in my phone charger and Ipod charger into a wall outlet near the computer desk. "Why not?" she asks again, raising her voice. I remain silent. Maybe she will just go away. I put away some more things before she asks, "Who're they?" She rolls over to the other side of my bed. I walk to the frames and search for the one she's pointing.

"Which one?"

"All of them,"

"He," I point to one of the pictures, "is my stepfather, Emile Fernand-Ludovic…"

"Isn't my Daddy your stepdad?" I glance at her. Has Amelia told them that Durand is gay?

"Yes, but so is Emile. And this man, next to Emile is my father, Durand Ludovic," My father is a tan man, a very dark tan man with slicked back black hair with a dark beard around his mouth and chin. His eyes are dark blue. He is not nearly as cut as Emile is, but my father is definitely a strong muscular man. In the picture both men are wearing suits; I believe they were at some banquet. From just looking at them, it is impossible to even guess that they are homosexuals.

"Wait, so how is this guy your stepdad?" she points to Emile.

"Emile," I point to him, "and my father," I then point to him, "are married." Kayla is silent for a moment, her face contorted as if I just spoke Greek to her.

"Ewwwwwwww!" she squeals, "Your daddy is a fag! Ew! Oh My God! That's so gross!" My eyes widen and my jaw drops in shock. Did she just say 'fag'?

"Excuse me, but where did you learn that word?"

"My Daddy," My jaw clenches, I am living in the house of a homophobe. So that's why Amelia said my father wanted me to call him instead of Emile. I take a few breaths to calm myself down a bit.

"Kayla," she looks at me and blinks, I'm sure, in shock of my expression. Oh yes, I am giving her a full on glare, "Never use that word again. Do you understand me? It is a very disrespectful, hurtful, and discriminating word,"

"But, Daddy…"

"I don't care what your father says. It is a terrible thing to call someone, and if you keep using that word, or any other hurtful words against homosexuals, we will have a problem, do you understand?" She nods her head slowly, tears brimming her wide eyes. I look back to my picture frames. "Her name is Zecari Yohann," I point to a picture of me and Zecari at the beach during a summer. Zecari has brown hair with fire engine red and neon blue streaks on the right side of her head. She's tan like me, and has dark brown eyes. Kayla Marie Gaven looks to the picture I am pointing at and she giggles as she wipes her eyes.

"She has weird hair," she mumbles and I chuckle.

"I know; she's my best friend." I actually like her hair. "His name is Jonathon Ardziv," I point to another picture, "He's a boy I met through competitions." Jonathon has a shaved head and dark Armenian skin with lovely dark brown eyes. He's a year older than me, a few inches taller, and he's a pretty lanky kid. He wears thick glasses, the kid is practically blind. He also plays the violin beautifully. The picture was taken after one of the competitions a few years ago; we were standing next to each other hugging each other with one of our arms while holding up our violins up with the other. He won first and I had won third.

"He's so, geeky looking," she curls her lip again, but this time I laugh and lean against the window sill that is right next to the bed. "Was he your boyfriend?" she asks and I laugh even harder.

"God no, I mean… we did have a thing for a little though," Kayla sits up with a huge grin on her face.

"A thing? Tell me more!" I stiffen up, but I force myself to relax. Open the door, open the door, open the door.

"Yeah, we flirted a lot, but not much more than that," we did kiss a few times and hold hands, but that was really the extent to things.

"Oooh! What else did you guys do?" she asks slyly. I take out my phone again. 3:36.

"I need to shower." I plug in my flatiron and look through my newly put away clothes to find something to wear to this party thing.

"Tsk, man," Kayla Marie groans.

"Oh, who are Billy and Jake?" I glance at her over my shoulder to see her blush.

"Billy Black is a friend of my Daddy's. Also one of Billy's daughters works for my Mommy."

"Amelia?" Was she talking about her mother or mine?

"Yeah. And Jacob Black," she starts coming her hair with her fingers, "he's Billy's youngest and only son."

"Huh…" I think I might wear a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a plum three quarter sleeved shirt with a V neck collar, and a black knit long sweater over it. "Do they live nearby?" I ask as I take the hangers of the clothes I am going to wear and lay them on my bed where Kayla Marie still is.

"Sort of, they live in La Push. It's only like, half an hour away."

With my hair, dried, and straightened and all of my clothes on I walk into the bathroom to put on my make-up. I look in the mirror and groan; fantastic, two zits on my forehead, most likely from all of the stress. I sigh and begin brushing my teeth. Once I have that task completed I start brushing my auburn hair and tie it into a carefree ponytail. I shake my head to loosen all of my bangs then take a brush and neaten them up a bit. Emile was right; they do need to be trimmed. They used to be straight across bangs reaching my eyebrows, but I haven't had them cut in a while, so now they kind of just sweep to the side but they cover my forehead (and the two zits) completely. I take out my black eyeliner and apply a little to my bottom lids, "Ooh! Put some on me!" I glance to my left and see Kayla Marie looking a little too eager for my comfort. I put away my eyeliner and get my mascara. My eyes are a bright brown, not exactly chocolate brown, but possibly even auburn ish.

"If your father doesn't want you to straighten your hair then I doubt he will like it if I put make-up on you," I put away my make-up away and walk past her into my room; she follows.

"What about a little blush?" I kneel down in front of my shoes. Decisions, decisions…

"I don't own any blush."

"You don't?"

"Nope." I don't know if I want to wear a pair of converses, or a pair of no heel boots. If I wear converses I will wear my red low top ones, but if I wear boots I would wear my knee length, baggy ones with straps. Hm… decisions indeed.

"This is so not fair!" Did she actually just stomp her foot? I sit on my butt and begin to put on my converses.

"Talk to him about it, not me," My phone says 4:42. I stand up, put my phone in my back pocket and walk over to my jewelry box. I put on the silver, red, and purple bangles I had on earlier, and I put on a pair of black rose earrings.

"Can I borrow a necklace?"

"No," should I put on a necklace? I pick through the box when I decide against a necklace.

"Why not?"

"Because I said so." I walk into the bathroom, grab my chapstick, do a final inspection and head downstairs. In the living room, John is sitting on one of the plaid couches with his feet on the coffee table watching the television in front of him. He's watching a John Wayne movie.

I finally take a good look at a room I've been just walking through all day. The ceiling is relatively low and painted a dull white with the walls being a pale and also dull blue. It's a simple square shaped room, and from where I am standing at the base of the stairs, to my right is the front door. The door is "white" plastic or metal, I can't tell, with a large simple window taking up about half of the door. Outside I see heaps of wetness; wet grass, wet road, wet sidewalk, wet cars, wet trees. Ugh. There is another door that is open, it is wood and has three tiny windows lined up at the top of it. Next to the door on the left is a large window – more wetness – with washed out navy blue curtains pulled open. Beneath the window is a two cushioned blue plaid couch with a large standing lamp on the right of it and a side table on the left. On the next wall, the one directly in front of me, is a huge entertainment system in a giant wall unit. Books, pictures and knick knacks on both sides of the huge flat screen television in the middle, not mounted on the wall. There's a DVD player, some sort of game system, stereos, and DVD/Video Game Boxes on a shelf and compartments all around and above the television. In front of the massive wall unit is a coffee table, then a three cushion blue plaid couch, in which John sits. To the left of John is yet another two cushioned blue plaid couch with the exact same set up as its twin on the other side of the room.

Kayla Marie comes running down the stairs after me screaming, "Daddy! Daddy!" I grab on to the banister with chipping white paint as she runs past me. Calm down heart, calm down. "Can Lily straighten my hair! Please!"

"What?" he turns his head to the girl climbing over the couch to him but his eyes are still on the screen. How did he not hear her? How did the neighbors not hear her? I make my escape quick and silent. I follow the staircase wall to a small hallway located near the back of the house. The hardwood floor is the same dark color as the one in my room. In the small hall I stand, out of sight of my stepfather and stepsister. In front of me is the door to the kitchen – one of those doors that opens both ways that you only have to push – the door is white… "white". To my left the hallway continues to three doors, one is where my mother and John sleep, on the left, and the door across it is the baby's room. The other door straight back is probably the bathroom. Into the kitchen I go, the scent of baking, apples and cinnamon hit me like a ton of bricks, I nearly stagger back. Amelia is wearing a long pink skirt with white floral patterns on it, a pair of white ballet flats, and navy blue tight short sleeved turtle neck shirt. Her hair is loosely braided. She's putting pies into white boxes.

"Where did the boxes come from?" I ask. She's made sixteen pies, ten of which are already in boxes.

"Oh, hello Lily, why don't you come and help me?" I start folding the cardboard into boxes. "They come from the bakery I own in town. It's called Just Like Mom Used to Make Bakery," what a mouthful, "But most people call it Just Like Mom's, or even just Mom's Bakery," she giggles, I hand her a box and she puts a pie into it. I start folding another box. "I was thinking about this ever since Emile said you wanted to come live here…"

"About Emile," I interject, "Have you told John and Kayla that dad is gay?" Amelia bites her bottom lip,

"No, I was going to…"

"Well Kayla knows now," She goes to open her mouth to say something but then shuts it.

"I'll tell him tonight and make sure he curbs his language," I look to her surprised but then look back down to the boxes.

"Thank you. So you were saying before?"

"Right! I was thinking that you might be looking for a job and Emile told me that you excel at making traditional French Pastries," I roll my eyes. That Emile. It's not that I necessarily "excel" at it; it's just something I do when I am bored. Emile taught me all of the recipes, "I was wondering if you wanted to work at the bakery with me. I've been looking for another baker for a while because the one I had, Stephen, he quit a couple of months ago to go to a cooking school. He said it was a chance of a life time, even at his age. He's forty three, but he was such an amazing baker. Now I know I will still have to find another baker because you would only be able to work part time seeing how you have school and all. And I'll be more than flexible with your hours if you need me to because I'm not sure if you're going to join the school orchestra or something," I inhale deeply through my nose, my head is beginning to hurt from her long rant.

"I am sure we can work something out," I answer before she can go on.

"Great! Great! JOHN!" she calls over her shoulder making me nearly drop the pie in a box I am carrying over to the kitchen table. Inside voices people! Inside voices!

"WHAT!" he calls from the living room. I look around the kitchen.

"Come help with the pies!" It has black and white tile, yellow wallpaper, white cabinets, refrigerator, dishwasher, oven and microwave. The door leading outside is similar, actually identical, to the front door, minus the second wooden door. It has pale yellow curtains aver the window. The way the kitchen is arranged is, when looking in from the other kitchen door leading to the rest of the house, the door to the cold outside all the way on the left on the back furthest wall of the house, to the right of that is some cabinets on the floor and up on the wall, then a window with the same pale yellow curtains on it, underneath that is a steel sink, further to the right more counter space and cabinets, a dishwasher then a large pantry. Then there is another wall to which is the stove, with a window above it with same yellow curtains, counter space, and then finally the refrigerator. The kitchen table where all of the boxes of pies are currently is in the center of the whole room. The kitchen is probably the brightest room in the whole house, I mean, it still is dreary and lackluster, but not as much as the rest of the house.

I am about the get into the Gaven's minivan, not the same car my mother came to pick me up in, when John calls me. I follow him to their garage. "This is what your father bought you." My jaw drops. It's a black car! A shiny black car! (I know absolutely nothing about cars) I walk over to it.

"Oh wow! It's so shiny!" John laughs as I glide my hands over the sleek shiny car. Have I mentioned that the car is so shiny?

"It's a 2008 Nissan Rogue," I open up the car door not even really hearing or understanding what he said. I gasp when I see the interior.

"It's purple!" Purple is my favorite color.

"Yeah, your father must have spent a lot of money to customize it." I sit in the car, my smile becoming larger and larger by the second. The cloth-y interior feels so good. I turn around and look at the back seat and I see a black afghan folded neatly over the seats and my heart nearly breaks. "You can drive it around when we get back, or tomorrow, but right now we need to get going," John says. I get out of the car and follow him to his minivan while looking back at my car over my shoulder. As I buckle myself in I make a mental note to call my father tomorrow to thank him.

The car ride to La Push seemed never ending with Kayla chatting in my ear the entire way, but finally we make it. I climb my way out of the car and notice the air smells very…musky? La Push is not at all like Forks. Where we are now, is just a lot of land and a bunch of scattered log/cabin types of houses. It's very strange. There's way more foliage here than in Forks, at least it seems that way, the trees look like they go up for miles. "Lia!"

"Billy!"

"Bring that child over here!" I turn around from looking at the trees to see my mother bringing over the baby to a man coming out of the cabin. He looks like one of those Native American Indians I've read about. He looks like a chief too. "Billy" is in a wheel chair. John waves me over to the trunk of the van and hands me a box.

"Hey Billy, get that boy of yours over here to help us with these pies!" John calls over my head and he stacks another box on the one I am holding. I try to stifle a yawn but my efforts are futile, John smiles and pats my head as he stacks a third box for me. I turn around and nearly bump into someone who thankfully dodges me.

"Whoa!" he laughs. Two other boys join this person, all four of us about the same height, give or take an inch or so.

"John, where do I put these?" I ask looking down at the boxes in my hands.

"I'll show you where," a boy slightly taller than me grins mischievously. He is also Native American Indian looking and definitely on the muscular side, I am going to guess he is the same age as me.

"Shut up Quil," someone kicks him in his knees from behind. "Quil" nearly falls with all of the pies in his hand but he recovers less than gracefully. I step away from him and another boy, someone a little shorter than "Quil" and not as muscular, as the two start running and chasing each other.

"Don't you dare ruin my pies!" My mother yells then returns her attention to Billy who is still holding the baby.

"I'll show you where" another boy comes up to me. He is a few inches taller than me, also Native American Indian looking, and rather skinny compared to the other two. He seems much shyer and calmer than the other two. "My name's Embry Call," I follow him past my mother, Billy, and the baby, with John following the two of us.

"Lily Ludovic," I answer. When we enter the house I immediately feel warm, but not necessarily in a good way. There are a lot of people here – all Native American Indian – and the room feels cramped. I shuffle my way through the crowd to the kitchen and place the pies on an island. The house has a bit of an orange-y/yellow-y glow from the types of lights they use. Everything seems very, nature oriented and tribal.

"Thank you Embry," John says, "By the way, this is my stepdaughter, Lily, show her around introduce her to people, you know, all that jazz," and he's gone, completely abandoning me. There is so much commotion coming from the other room, so many people laughing and yelling; and I thought being at my mother's house was loud. I look to Embry warily, he has a pie box open and is practically drooling, his expression makes me chuckle quietly. He looks up and blushes sheepishly. I jump when two people crash in through the back door of the kitchen and slam the pie boxes on the island. My hand goes to my heart as the two argue about who came in first. I swear I am going to have a heart attack living here, I'll definitely have grey hairs by the time I graduate high school, if I stay that long.

"Oh look!" the more muscular one, Quil, I believe laughs, "I think we scared her!"

"Lily, this is Quil Ateara and Jacob Black," he indicates to them respectfully, "Quil, Jacob, this is Lily Ludovic, John's stepdaughter." He introduces us with elegance I would have never expected; not that he would ever pass an etiquette class, but still.

Jacob grins at me as Quil moves to put his arms around my shoulder, "So that means you're Lia's kid, right?" Jacob shoves him off of me, making Quil shove him back over his head. Oh My God I am going to die here. I duck under them covering my head.

"Guys, lay off! You're scaring her!" Embry shouts shoving the both of them away from me. What's with all of the shoving? I step away from them all and press my back against the wall, my heart thudding so hard I think it'll come out of my chest. They both apologize.

"So where ya from?" Jacob asks as he sits on a stool, the other two boys following suit; Quil even goes as far as to get some forks and takes a pie into his lap and digs right in. As I am about to answer Kayla Marie runs in from the living area and stops short in front of Jacob.

"Hi Jacob," she bashes her eye lashes with her hands behind her back as she swings her body. I figured she has a crush on Jacob Black.

"Hey Kayla," he smiles. She looks to me with her brown eyes and grins.

"Lily, this is Jacob Black," she hooks on to his arm. I nod my head,

"We've met."

"Lily is my big sister! She lived in France and can speak like a million different languages!" she squeals. All three boys raise their eyebrows. I roll my eyes,

"No I don't Kayla," I cross my legs at the ankles as I still lean up against the wall, my hands hook themselves into my jean pockets.

"You don't speak different languages?"

"You're from France?"

"That's so cool!"

All three boys ask me at once. "Um, I only speak five different languages and yes, I lived in France."

"What languages you speak?" Jacob asks.

"English, French, Italian, Spanish and German. However I am currently working on Russian and Japanese."

"Whoa, how'd you learn all the languages?" Quil asks.

"My father is an international translator. He knows sixty seven languages and all of the different dialects of each." Durand Ludovic knew his entire life that he wanted to be an international translator, learning as many languages as he possibly could. The only quality father-daughter time he and I ever shared was when he was teaching me different languages. I cherish those times. A woman walks into the kitchen and my eyes widen; I can only focus on the three scars on the left side of her face and arm.

"Quil! Stop eating that pie! We are supposed to have them after dinner!" she scolds him gently to which he rolls his eyes and groans moving out of her way.

"What happened to you?" I ask aloud to my horrification. My face burns crimson; I really had no intention of asking that out loud! All four of them look to me shocked. I stand up straight and put my hands in front of me defensively, already moving, backing away to try to find an exit. "I am very sorry! That was so, so rude of me! You don't have to answer, I'll just…" I glance to where she came through and see a man, a huge man looking pained and angered. He must have some connection to the scarred woman. He is glaring at me. I've been glared at plenty of times, but this is the first time I have ever felt truly in danger because of it. The woman rushes around the table and grabs my hands. Maybe she'll attack me!

"Lily, Lily it's OK," she smiles at me but I can't tear my gaze away from the man and his clenching fists. Her voice is so sugary sweet but I can barely hear it over the roar in my ears. That man wants my blood, he wants me dead, he wants my head as a trophy! She cups my chin and turns it towards her. "Lily," she smiles.

"I am so sorry. I never am this rude, I'm just so tired I wasn't thinking, I am so sorry…" I begin to babble ridiculously.

"It's OK, calm down. I was attacked by a bear a few years ago." She says so simply. My eyes glance over to the man. She looks at him and smiles. "Oh don't worry about Sam, he wouldn't hurt a fly," she laughs angelically, but something in Sam's eyes makes me think differently. I wonder if that was regret? Sam leaves the room. I gather my wits back together and do a mental check, good, I didn't completely pee my pants… completely. "Your mom wanted me to come and get you," she says again. I look around and notice that the other boys and Kayla seemed afraid as well. Emily takes my hand and pushes me in front of her gently guiding me to the living room. My stomach feels so terrible, I feel like I need to vomit for a good half an hour.

The woman guides me through the crowd of bodies until I see my mother with the baby in a car seat next to her. "Everybody, everybody! I want you all to meet my daughter, Lily Ludovic!" She says as she puts her arms around me, hugging me from behind. What is she doing? Why is she doing this? At this point, I really wish I could simple disappear.

Finally after two hours of meeting and talking with some many different faces I found a way to escape all of the loud and hot insanity of the crowd. I stumble out the back door of the Black Household and run off into the trees. Am I exaggerating a bit? Yes, a little, but I loathe crowded environments and being forced to talk to people I don't know. It took me two years to finally get comfortable with performing, so being thrust into this environment now, ugh. I shudder as I slow to a walk and check behind me to make sure the light emitting from the house is still visible. I find a tree and sit at the base of it and curl up as close and tightly as possible. My head hurts, I am exhausted, and I feel so raw. In there I felt like a piece of meat scavenging vultures were picking at. My heart hurts, I'm missing Ace more than usual, I miss Emile so much, I miss being able to ride my bike over to see Zecari whenever since she lived so close, I even miss my Dad.

"Hey," a soft voice comes from behind me, I turn around and see Jacob Black making his way towards me from his house.

"Hey," I whisper back. This is only the second time I've seen him this night so now I'm noticing that he has long black hair like the rest of his tribe, Quileute tribe to be exact, although a few people are from the Makah tribe, as I found out. Not everyone in the house has long hair, but most do. I watch as he walks up to me and leans against the tree I am sitting against. He's wearing a simple pair of jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt.

"I saw you run out here, you OK?" his voice falls from above me, his concern envelopes me.

"Yeah," I sigh out, "I just… I… it's just been so much in one day," I hear him sit beside me,

"What do you mean?" Another door is opening. It's strange how more doors open in America than they did for me in France. I take a breath and rub my eyes, then yawn.

"Well, I arrived here today and there is a huge time difference between here and Toulon, France. You guys here are nine hours behind,"

"Ooh," he groans understanding. I take out my phone from my pocket, the glow lights up our faces.

"It's 6:47 now, so it should be 3:47 AM in France. I've been up longer than twenty four hours because the night before I left, I got NO sleep, like I was _up._" Once I started talking, more words kept flowing and flowing and flowing. "It was so weird meeting John, Kayla and the baby. It was even stranger to see my mother,"

"How come?"

"I haven't seen her or even talked to her in eight years. She's a stranger to me. And then Kayla wants me to be the big sister she's never had, but I don't know how to do that. Plus everyone here _yells_," Jacob laughs, "I'm serious! Has no one ever been taught about the difference between inside and outside voices?" Jacob laughs even harder.

"So you get scared by a little noise," he teases me.

"No," I pout, "It's just, shut up." Jacob continues to laugh. "Then I had to force myself to stay awake, which was surprisingly difficult even with Kayla's nonstop chatter,"

"You think she's annoying?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I'm so tired so, yeah, I think she's super annoying."

"She's adorable. You don't seem like you're good with kids," I can hear the smile in his voice.

"No… how does anyone find kids adorable? They're so messy and loud," I can feel the scowl on my face but Jacob just keeps laughing. Well I'm glad one of us is having a good time.

"Because kids bring out older people's inner kids, that's why. Older people get to relive their childhood through kids," he explains. I inhale the cool (and still musky) air, but thankfully I smell more of the pine needles and bark of trees.

"That sounds terrible," I mumble, not necessarily to him.

"Why? Did you not have a good childhood?" I can tell he's teasing.

"No… I mean, it wasn't good, but it wasn't… terrible either…" I'm silent for a minute, trying to think of the right words I want to say next. He senses that I have more to say, "I was never a kid." I finally say.

"Why were you never a kid?" Such a simple question yet it sends waves of prickling needles throughout my body. My body stiffens, OK, the door doesn't need to be opened that wide.

"Never mind,"

"What? Aw come on, you brought it up!" I've heard that tone before in many of my peers. I close my eyes just like the closing door. I suck my lips in again, remaining silent, hoping he will leave. We sit in silence for a long time. "I was so sure Sam was going to kill you," I gasp my eyes wide (although I would like to point out my gasps are much quieter than Kayla Marie's or Amelia's).

"Me too! I swear I thought he was going to rip my head off and make it into a trophy!" Jacob sits up and turns more towards me, even in the dark I can see how excited he looks.

"Man, I thought the exact same thing,"

"Shut up, you did not,"

"I swear I did!" I shake my head and roll my eyes with a smile pulling at the corners of my lips. It is as if the previous conversation disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"So her name is Emily Young, right? And she's Sam Uley's fiancée?" I ask leaning my head against the trunk.

"Yeah," A simple word can say so much.

"You don't like them?"

"Um… I like Emily, she's really cool and super nice…" I give him the same courtesy he gave me before, and wait for him to finish his own thought. However he doesn't say anything after what feels like eternity,

"And Sam?"

"Sam…" he looks back to the house as if to make sure no one would hear him. I stifle a yawn, poorly.

"You see. Sam's so uptight and just mean… he's like, got this gang, a group of people that only he hangs out with, well, more like they only hang out with him. It's like this exclusive club."

"What's wrong with that?" Jacob laughs, but it isn't the same, pure joyous laugh as before. This one is tainted somehow.

"Maybe club wasn't the right word… cult should fit better."

"Oh…"

"Yeah, he looks at me like he's waiting for something… like I'm going to join his stupid gang someday. He pays more attention to me than any of the other guys. I hate it."

"Maybe he likes you," I manage to say through a yawn. I glance over to Jacob to see the pure mortifying horror, the sheer terror on his face; I burst out in a fit of laughter.

"That was not funny, I don't even wanna think about that," Jacob shudders once my laughter dies down. I wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Yes it was. It was hilarious. But anyway, could you tell me about your ancestors? Your dad was telling me about it earlier and it sounded very interesting, but I just couldn't focus on what he was saying. I felt so rude."

"Sure," he sits up and turns more towards me when someone calls my name. "Aw, looks like your mom is calling for you. I think you're leaving." His voice sounds so depressed! I stand up and yawn.

"I better get going then." He stands as well, "I'll have to take a rain check on the story, I really do want to hear it," Jacob grins, the light from the house illuminating his face as we walk back together.

"Well, come down anytime, cuz this is where I'll be,"

"Do you go to Forks High School?" I open the door to his house and hold it open for him.

"Nah, I go to La Push High, on the reservation here,"

"Ah," I feel my face contort unpleasantly because it would have been nice to already know someone going into school. We make our way through the crowd in the living room, still loud and hot as before, possibly even more so. People say their "goodbye"s and "hope to see you again"s as I walk past them when I come across Emily talking to my mother. She looks over at me and then gives me a very warming hug which would have been wonderful, if the warmth wasn't chanced away by the icing stare of Sam who's standing behind her. After her hug I walk quickly pass Sam to my mother, I glance at them over my shoulder, when I feel it's safe to do so and see a picture that shocks me. Sam is bending over to whisper something in Emily's ear, but the way he is touching her, so gently, tenderly, as if she is made of glass. His eyes are so soft, loving, as if there is no one in the room, just her, the love of his life.

I get shuffled out of the house with people yelling goodbyes over and all around me, the cool musky and woodsy air smacks me in my face brutally. I shake my head, turn around, smile and wave my own goodbye to Jacob.


End file.
